


Violent Delights

by thebriars



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Friends With Benefits, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Slow Burn, aprox. -2 smut but it’s There, heavily implied sex, im ace any smut i write would horrible, maybe the kitchen crew too???, ohhhhh boy lots of pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebriars/pseuds/thebriars
Summary: It seemed as though everything was turning into one of those slo-mo car crash replays found in odd corners of the internet- a foreseeable, disastrous outcome, enough time to realize and regret, but not enough time to change it all. Decisions had been made and Alfred had lost what little control he had, skidding over icy asphalt like some Olympic figure skater.•••the friends-with-benefits au plus shakespeare quotes and wilhelmina coke/happiness





	1. as boundless as the sea

**Author's Note:**

> whoooooo im back 
> 
> this is not actually the longer fic i mentioned, but that one is in baby stages and this one just sort of happened? idk. 
> 
> •••
> 
> quote, chapter one: "My bounty is as boundless as the sea,..." -Juliet, Act 2 Scene 2 of William Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet'

It seemed as though everything was turning into one of those slo-mo car crash replays found in odd corners of the internet- a foreseeable, disastrous outcome, enough time to realize and regret, but not enough time to change it all. Decisions had been made and Alfred had lost what little control he had, skidding over icy asphalt like some Olympic figure skater.

Edward hadn’t said as much. At least, not out loud. Nevertheless, Alfred saw the blank look in the back of his eyes every time they met, as though what had once been pleasure was now nothing but pain, as though Alfred was his drug and, God, he was addicted.

Breath tickled the back of Alfred’s neck, raising the hairs along his spine and shuddering into an involuntary jolt of his hips. A hand folded in his, soft against his heart, and everything seemed peaceful for a rare, perfect moment. No blank look, no helpless nods, and certainly no rush to do it and leave.

He was afraid this was a fling. Alfred had been hopelessly entangled in Edward’s snares since the beginning of time, but then things like duty and people like Florence showed up in their friendship. He’d helped plan his best friend’s proposal, ignoring the splitting twists in his heart as they did so. And now the engagement had extended far beyond social norm and turned into a way to stave off the inevitable.

But Edward came to him one night, steadfast in his words and vulnerable in his eyes. He asked for what Alfred could not refuse- one night, just them and the sheets and whatever that led to- and the ice appeared on the road. What was supposed to be one night turned into two, and then five, and ten. What was supposed to be a way to relax had become his number-one problem, all because of Edward and his stupidly beautiful eyes and his even stupider engagement.

And yet it could be a fling, because there was a line between sex and love-making, and they walked the line with shaky balance.

Perhaps this was only sex to Edward, but Alfred liked to think that these peaceful moments after it was over were a sign that it wasn’t.

“I should go,” Edward whispered, his chin resting gently on Alfred’s shoulder. Alfred nodded, trying not to betray the storm inside.

He wanted to ask- lay the cards out and ask Edward to point to theirs- but thrill has a way of killing the emotional mood, and their afternoons together might as well have been pure joyrides.

Edward gathered his things and Alfred slipped out from the sheets to grab a robe, tempted to snag a kiss from Edward on the way to the bathroom, but he simply couldn’t.

The tile was cold against his feet and the mirror left no stone unturned. Alfred touched a light finger to the hickey at the base of his neck, dragging the touch down to the light pink marks on his chest. There was a pale scratch on his bicep from where Edward had accidentally clawed at some point. Alfred hid a satisfied smile. This was something to hold onto, to prove to himself that it was not a dream.

Edward reached into the bathroom and tapped Alfred’s shoulder.

“Really going so soon?”

“Yeah, I gotta clean myself up before Florence gets home.”

“Right.” He hoped he didn’t sound bitter.

Edward bit his bottom lip and glanced at the hickey as well. Alfred was torn between flaunting it or covering it from Edward’s scrutiny. Was it love or regret in his eyes? The blankness was back.

And he was gone. Alfred slid to the floor, hunched against the tub, and ran a hand through his messy, sex-tossed hair.

 

•••

 

Florence was waiting for him, perched on the arm of the sofa, when Edward came out from the bathroom. She smiled, blue eyes turning her expression into one of tired melancholy, an emotion she exuded. She was nothing like Alfred, who dripped with quiet passion.

“How was your day?” He crossed the room to drop a kiss on her forehead, continuing on to the bedroom in search of something comfortable.

“Pretty good, I guess. I’m covering an interesting story. That’ll hopefully come out next week...”

“I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful article.”

She smiled again, leaning in the doorway, and Edward wondered if he could love her. Of course, the minimal attraction he felt towards women was overshadowed by the intensity of everything to do with Alfred. Florence was wonderful on all accounts, if not a little downcast, but how could moonlight be bright when there was the sun?

Florence mentioned something about takeaway from the Thai place down the street, which Edward automatically agreed to. He navigated their relationship on autopilot, drawing from the movies he’d watched with his sisters and the moments with Alfred where it was like they were really dating. It was not fair in the slightest to Florence, but, then again, nothing about their lives was fair.

Edward’s phone buzzed on the dresser. It was Alfred, the notification overtaking a text he’d missed from Ernst.

 

ALFRED: we need to talk about the bachelor party

 

Edward bit his lip and hovered over the option to reply, but decided against it and instead told Ernst that drinks with the old crowd sounded spectacular.

Their text code was used so much it would probably look suspicious if anyone saw it, but Edward didn’t care. It might be easier to have someone find out than come clean on his own.

Too bad that they didn’t have a code for “I think I love you; run away with me to Scotland or Paris or New York”. But, they had a code for sex, and if sex was as close as he could get, Edward would take it.

 

•••

 

Ernst had been exceedingly lax on his definition of “the old crowd”. Alfred only half recognized a good part of the faces in their newly designated corner of the pub. Mina was leaning into his side and Harriet was chatting to him about whatever tipsy thought had crossed her mind, Albert and Victoria had disappeared a little while before, and Ernst was desperately trying to avoid Harriet. Alfred sighed and tapped the bottom of his glass on the rough table, barely hearing the noise over the music and a burst of laughter from Mina.

Ernst whooped, drawing Alfred’s attention at last. “Drummond’s on his way!”

Good lord.

Edward had never really responded to his text- he’d asked whether Alfred was going out on Saturday and then mentioned something about a business trip in a month or so. Alfred had replied mechanically, knowing and not caring about the clear lack of emotion in his responses.

Mina, the only member of their group who had the slightest inkling of what was going on (hopefully), not-so-subtly jabbed Alfred in the thigh. He jabbed her back.

Harriet rose to find Victoria, giving Alfred the freedom to slip lower in the booth and sigh loudly into Mina’s shoulder. He hoped it wouldn’t be awkward, but every moment they spent together pretending they were only friends was agonizing anyway.

“You’ll be fine,” Mina whispered, giving him a sliver of a supportive smile. Alfred smiled back, though it probably looked like he was in immense pain, and watched Harriet drag a red-faced Victoria back inside. Albert trailed behind, his hair suspiciously rumpled. Mina groaned dramatically and dropped her head onto the table.

Some song Alfred didn’t recognize started on the speakers, but Ernst was into it, and he somehow managed to pull Harriet out onto the little square of a dance floor. Alfred worried his lip, vaguely passed that every other couple (or quasi-couple) in the room was free to do whatever the fuck they wanted, while he had to hide it all away. it wasn’t that his friends wouldn’t be happy for them or accepting, but Florence was a favorite and Edward was definitively closeted for the foreseeable future anyway. Alfred shared a glance with Mina, who subtly bobbed her head towards the door.

“You seem nervous.”

Alfred hoped his eyes showed the grin he was trying to hide. “Yeah, I might take a cigarette break.”

“You’re killing your lungs, Alfred,” Mina sighed, taking a sip of her wine and shaking her head. Alfred snorted and slid out of their booth, poking Ernst to let him know he was stepping out.

The cool air in the street washed over him like a soft breath and Alfred shivered. He sagged against the wall, the faint scent of leftover smoke and a dim pool of light allowing Alfred to relax for a moment. The familiar weight of a cigarette settled between his fingers and he watched the traffic in the street with passive interest.

Alfred’s lighter wasn’t working- or, maybe, his hands were shaking too much to get it right. For some reason, the night had made unshed tears build up behind his eyes. Alfred took a steadying breath and tried again. Maybe it was just the lighter.

“Need some help?” Chestnut eyes shone in the darkness, deep and dark and accented by a perpetual half smile.

“Hi Edward. Help would be lovely.”

Edward’s own flame sparked the ember and pale smoke filled the air between them. It was all very metaphorical, or maybe that was just the buzz in Alfred’s veins. He offered Edward the cigarette.

 

•••

 

“I’m sorry I never responded.”

“It’s fine,” Alfred said. Edward narrowed his eyes and focused on Alfred’s tiny grimace. It hurt to see him like this- covering it all up for some stupid reason. Alfred had said once that being young in the family meant being weak, and Edward figured Alfred’s tough exterior and witty defense mechanisms were leftover relics from his childhood. Despite Alfred’s casual tone and cool posture, Edward saw the flash of vulnerability in his eyes.

“Not really,” Edward said, but he didn’t push it. The last thing either needed was a terse argument and another cold ending to a dumb tussle. He leaned against the wall besides Alfred in solidarity, their joined turmoil settling over them like the smoke. Edward passed the cigarette back and Alfred tapped it against the brick, the gold dying out with the faintest hiss.

“Do you want to go in?” Alfred didn’t make eye contact when he turned to look, and Edward swallowed hard. The awkward silence between them was deafening.

“Sure. I need to make Florence’s excuses,” Edward sighed, pushing himself back into his feet and glancing into the bright bar.

“And what are those?”

“Deadlines. Or a hatred of loud music.”  _And you._

Florence had never really liked Alfred much. She’d never tell Edward outright, but it was obvious nonetheless. She seemed to think he was a bit of a rebel, lacked ambition, and probably a number of more superficial things. Edward didn’t think Florence was dumb enough to  _not_ realize his attraction to his best friend.

Edward didn’t care, though. He knew that Alfred was so much more than his shitty HR job and his cigarette thing. So what if Florence didn’t like him? More time to themselves.

Albert dragged Edward over to their corner the second he and Alfred came in, immediately jumping into some long spiel about politics. (What would it take for Edward to avoid the subject completely? Jesus.) He watched Alfred move over to a booth where Mina sat, longing constricting around his heart. But, there was a drunk Albert (who simultaneously became a huge clumsy softy and a political genius) to deal with. Edward very clearly remembered a few college essays inspired by Albert’s gin-inspired discourse, but it was still difficult to piece together what the fuck he was talking about due to his splintered English.

Within half an hour, Edward had emptied a glass of whatever odd concoction Ernst had ordered and Albert was well into political rhetoric.

“Of course, I thought that the decision to move it was fucking stupid. I mean, _wer ist das dumm? Isreal und Palästina sind bereits instabil.”_

“Let’s get you home, huh?” Victoria appeared and ran her hands up over Albert’s shoulders and down to latch at his chest, supposedly raising up on her toes and pressing her lips to the back of his neck. Ernst yelled something to the extent of “get a room”, which Edward echoed. Albert smiled and dropped his head back onto Vic’s. Harriet pretended to gag and Alfred wheezed into Mina’s shoulder.

Edward excused himself to go to the bathroom, pulling out his phone to inconspicuously tap out a text.

 

•••

 

Victoria and the brothers had left already and Mina had offered both Harriet and Alfred a ride home, but Alfred said that he’d stick around to help the supposedly trashed Edward. His fingers tapped lightly on the top of his phone, having not had the chance to check whatever new message he’d received. Alfred had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who it was.

Mina blew him a kiss as the girls departed, and Alfred pretended to lean back and relax for a second. As soon as she and Harriet disappeared from view, Alfred jumped to check his text.

 

EDWARD: meet me once everyone leaves?

 

Alfred grinned and darted through the small crowd at the bar, shoving through to the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and dropped heavy against it for a moment before Edward’s lips dragged him into a cloud of white.


	2. a rose by any other name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." - Juliet, Act II, Scene 2, William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear im not dead im just Dead (thank you finals)
> 
> so i'm pushing through and putting up chapters because I'M GONNA FUCKING DO THIS

Edward woke up to the scent of roses.

He rolled onto his back, Florence still asleep beside him, her lotion still filling his senses. Edward only half remembered the night before- he recalled the lighter, Albert’s ramblings, and a text that lead to some particularly sinful bathroom escapades. He remembered sobering up in the cold night air, an arm around Alfred as Edward guided him home safely. He remembered the sweet blush that had crept down from Alfred’s cheeks to his chest, either from the alcohol or the sex or the chilly darkness. Edward remembered leaning against cool brick to compose himself before letting himself into his apartment, Florence already in bed and the smell of roses chasing any remaining buzz away.

Edward sighed, turning so that he faced the wall and avoided the roses.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Florence was the safe option, the well-worn path. Alfred was everything else- a choppy sea and an overgrown trail. He was rough around the edges where Florence had been worn down ages ago. Edward had cut himself on the points before, but he was happy to do it again because it was _Alfred_. Alfred with beautiful eyes and a knowing smirk and a tongue-in-cheek sunny disposition.

Edward groaned a little and flipped onto his other side again, trying to forget the sound of Alfred’s voice with the scent of roses. He twirled a finger through Florence’s curls. If only they had met differently- if only they were nothing but good friends, or that Alfred wasn’t there and they were free to be the perfect couple. _A fake couple_ , Edward scorned. As if he would ever give up what little he had with Alfred for politics.

Except that was exactly what he was doing. _God_.

If only there was someone he could talk to.

Florence’s sad blue eyes met his, clouded with sleep, and she smiled. Edward couldn’t help but smile back.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

 

 •••

 

Harriet kicked at the leg of the table, causing Alfred’s coffee to shudder in its mug, disrupting the floral pattern etched in cream. He raised a brow in that trademark _what now_ look Edward liked to comment on, but Harriet merely sighed and dropped her head back to glare up at the ceiling.

It was obvious that she was thinking about Ernst. There was a certain annoyed (but loving) gleam in her eyes when he crossed her mind, and Alfred was keen on her changing moods.

“Are you going to talk to me or are you just going to glare?” Alfred took a slow sip of his coffee and settled back, arms crossed.

“What? Yes, I will, I just need to think for a second.” Harriet closed her eyes again and let her obnoxiously long hair brush the cross bar of the chair. Alfred fell back as well, completely aware that they looked incredibly odd, and studied the ceiling for a moment.

Last night had been heaven and hell rolled into one. Heaven for obvious reasons, and hell for the same. Alfred and Edward had parted ways at the end of Alfred’s street- Edward refused to let Alfred walk home alone. He remembered Edward’s receding figure, melting into the night in a blur of streetlight and leftover blur from the bar. He remembered the cool night air and stopping in the stairwell to breathe, hands clasped tightly around the rail to anchor himself in reality.

Harriet sat up suddenly, snapping Alfred back to the café and the morning and her. “Ernst asked me a question last night.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“God, Alfred, _no_. He asked me what we were.” Harriet took an angry bite of a croissant.

“Well, what did you say? Please tell me you were honest.”

Harriet had this _thing_ where she never said what she meant. Alfred thought this flared up back in her weird teenage years filled with eyeliner and Edgar Allan Poe and annotated copies of _Titus Andronicus_. Her poetic phase had fizzled out long before, but her metaphor-heavy emotional speeches still remained. Alfred figured that she had trailed off into one of those with Ernst or would do it with him.

Harriet paused, hands wrapped around a mug. Alfred groaned.

“I was as honest as I could be,” she said, haughty.

“What does that mean, Harriet?”

“I said that I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. I have a relationship, you know.”

“Jesus, Harriet, you need to break up with George.”

“I can’t, Alfred. I’m out of work and I can’t just… leave him.”

Alfred sighed. “You’ll get a job soon and then you can move in with me or Ernst or Mina.”

“I’m not moving in with Mina. Too many cats.”

“Oh, Harriet.” Alfred ran a hand over his face, doing a double take at the sight of a burgundy coat. (It wasn’t Edward. Alfred seemed to see him everywhere- dark eyes across a counter, a certain tilt of a head or a flash of chestnut hair. It was driving him mad. Or, perhaps, madness was causing him to see Edward. Desperation and whatnot.)

“I’m serious! I am mildly allergic to cats.”

“And?”

Harriet grumbled. “And I would go nuts.”

“I think that you’d get along fine living with Mina if you tried,” Alfred said. Mina and Harriet were two of his closest friends. He and Harriet had grown up just down the road from each other, staying close throughout childhood and adolescence. Alfred met Mina in his psychology class in the first year of university. Harriet and Mina had never quite gotten on, however. Mina could be a little much sometimes, a little different, and a little odd. Harriet always seemed exhausted with her and Mina tried too hard to be like her. Alfred couldn’t bring himself to either force them together or break it off with one, so he balanced two best friends (like a pro, he might add).

Harriet snorted. “Dunno about that.”

The café was one of Alfred’s favorite spots. Not only was it reasonably close to his apartment, it had some damn good food and they played good music. Albert came to their Thursday night poetry slams and Victoria had worked there one summer during university. Harriet had a horrible addiction to the pastries there. Therefore, it had quickly turned into both a place for one-on-one meetups and group festivities. There was a timeless aspect to it- warm and lazy while the city rushed on around them. The passerby started to blur into a smear of gray against the vintage orangey-pink of the wallpaper. Mina said she found it melancholy, but Alfred found it peaceful.

Harriet sighed and stared blankly out at the storefronts across the road, tapping her perfect manicure against the table. “I just don’t know what to do. I think I want Ernst, but I’m just too dependent on George right now. Also, it’s just weird to go back to him after… after you-know-what.”

Alfred snorted. “After your weird, sensual version of a one-night stand?”

“Shut up, Alfred. But yeah, that. I just feel like I lead him on then and I’m leading him on now and that makes it feel like I’d be leading him on again if we actually had a relationship.” Harriet huffed loudly.

“Do think I have any good relationship advice?”

“Good question. Why _am_ I asking Mr. Single-Pringle to help me?”

_Yeah, that sort of issues._ Alfred grinned nonetheless. “Do what you think is best.”

“But that’s what I’m here for! Jesus, Alfred.”

“Honest opinion, then?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay- dump George, move in with me for a bit, and then figure your shit out with Ernst.” Alfred took a final, satisfactory bite of his sandwich and sat back. Harriet eyed him, a small smile crossing her face and a sly demeanor overtaking her.

“Will do, lover-boy.”

 

•••

 

Edward found the lull of the city more calming than almost anything. In some strange way, it echoed the peaceful years of his childhood in their old manor house in the countryside. Though the two couldn’t be any more different, the constant rhythm of it all was relaxing nonetheless. He scuffed the bottom of his shoes against the curb, delighting in his solitude. Florence had left to visit a friend for the afternoon. The rose-scented kiss she had pressed to his cheek burned there and, try as he might, Edward could not scratch it off.

It was rose and honey, Florence and Alfred, and though he knew who he loved, Edward was torn between _la_ _vie boheme_ and the life he’d strived to live since childhood.

He took in a sharp breath, ducking beneath an overhang to avoid the wind, trying to steady his mind.

There was something Alfred had said, softened by the buzz and the afterhaze, that ticked in the back of Edward’s mind. Something vaguely unintelligible, something about Mina going ballistic after she found out what they did. Something that meant that their secret wasn’t as well kept as Edward needed it to be.

Edward was fairly sure that Mina worked in a bookstore somewhere in north Soho most afternoons- Alfred mentioned that she ran the store for a few hours on Sunday’s as well. He could only hope that she’d be there. Ernst had sent Edward an address, back from when Mina had been hopelessly into him. It wasn’t as if Edward had anything to say, really. All he had was an address and a weird stew of emotions.

A flash of blonde hair through a window caught his eye. Sure enough, it was Mina, crouched among stacks of books. Edward took a breath and pushed into the store, a tiny bell jingling over his head. He hesitated for a second before steeling his nerves and backtracking through the store to where Mina had been a moment before.

“Hello, can I help you?” Mina straightened a final book and glanced up, a poster-child smile on her face. “Oh, Edward! Hi!”

“Hi, Mina.” Edward gave a half-hearted smile back, twisting his heel into the carpeting. Suddenly, he had nothing to say. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yes, definitely, just give me a moment.” Mina disappeared into the tangle of shelves. Edward watched her go and huffed out a breath of finality. This was it. Sure enough, Mina was back in a moment and a jingle of a bell indicated that a supposed customer had left. Mina shrugged in response to Edward’s questioning look. “I figured you wanted to talk alone.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Listen, uh, I’ll just cut to the chase. What do you know about me and Alfred?”

An uncomfortable silence fell and Mina narrowed her eyes. “I know what Alfred’s told me.”

“Well, what’s that? Mina, _please_.” He puffed out his bottom lip and slumped against a bookshelf.

“Fine! Does Alfred need to know that you know?”

“Yeah, but I can leave you out of it.”

“Great. I know everything. More than I ever wanted to know, actually.”

_Jesus, Mina knew about his habits in bed._ “Just promise that you won’t tell Florence?”

She hesitated, leaving the question to fizzle out in midair. Edward held his breath. “Yeah, she won’t know.” She paused again, and, her voice low and scathing, said “At least, she won’t get it from me.”

Mina looked mildly concerned by her own tone, and then attempted to dart off respectably, as if Edward gave a damn about what she thought.

He ran a hand over his face and decided to stalk out of the store before anyone noticed him there, gasping for a breath of fresh air and a cool breeze. The bell jingled again as he left, giving him some distance from the sudden wave of terror that racked his body. Edward could only hope that Mina would stay true and keep quiet, but her words were a cold reminder that nothing about this was secure in the least.

“Edward?”

Startled from his nervous haze, Edward glanced up to meet shimmering blue eyes and a confused smile. “Hi Alfred.”

Alfred’s head tilted a bit. “What brings you to this part of town?”

Ever the politician, Edward smoothly glossed over his tiniest bit of hesitation. “I was just passing through and I needed to grab a book for Florence’s birthday.”

“Oh? What’d you find?” Alfred could see _right_ through him, apparently.

“Nothing yet. Mina was a dear, though.”

Alfred nodded, his suspicion clear from the set of his jaw. “I better get moving. Mina and I are going out for dinner.”

“Um, yeah, me too. See you around?”

“Sure.” Alfred gave a quick, false smile, and pushed past. Edward groaned, ducking into a nearby alley to catch his breath. Alfred was onto him, and Mina was in no way going to hold up under the relentless questioning that was sure to follow. It seemed like Edward’s impulse had overtaken him again.

Alfred had called him Romeo once. Edward had laughed, brow knit in confusion.

_“What do you mean by that?”_

_Alfred shrugged. “You’re impulsive. That’s Romeo’s tragic flaw, right?” He flung his legs up onto Edward’s lap, dropping his head over the arm of the couch, and Edward wondered whether Alfred was being serious._

_“I guess.”_

And Alfred was right- impulse lead him to Florence and drew him away, impulse compelled him to kiss Alfred in that doorway and the first time, years before, at the lake. Impulse sent him to Soho and now impulse had definitely ruined everything.

But there was nothing to do besides go on, get home, and deal with whatever fallout came.

The heartbeat of the city surrounded him again and Edward sunk into the lull of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp i'm not sure if i hate this chapter or not but please let me know what you thought 
> 
> also if mina had a theme song it would be cool kids by echosmith fight me
> 
> •••
> 
> i may be ace but i'm a hoe for comments <33


	3. with a kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die." - Romeo, Act V, Scene 3, William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at that update schedule goddamn

Night had fallen already when Alfred finally sunk onto the couch, delighting in the wonderfully fuzzy socks Victoria had given him for Christmas and the warmth of the mug in his hands. He had plans to skim the internet for a documentary to get lost in and go to bed far later than he probably should have, but it was a Friday night and he was blissfully free at last.

Just as he had curled up with his laptop, a soft knock echoed through the room. Alfred dropped his head onto the back of the couch and groaned, clambering off his couch and stumbling to the door.

“Hi, Alfred.” Harriet smiled awkwardly from the doorway.

“Jesus, Harriet, come on in.”

Harriet dropped a duffel bag onto the ground and moved into the kitchen, muttering about needing a drink. Alfred followed, stopping to drag the duffel into the living room.

“What’s in the bag? That’s gotta weigh like… 7 kilos.”

“Is _everything_ a good answer?”

“Sure,” Alfred laughed. “I’m guessing you took my advice?”

“Fuck yeah, lover-boy.” Harriet leaned against the doorframe, bottle in hand and hair slung up into a bun. “How old is this wine?”

“Harriet, no. Ice cream for breakups, wine for one-night stands.” Alfred stalked off to the kitchen to dig out the cookies-and-cream he had buried in there at some point.

“Oh, but this isn’t a sad breakup. I want wine.”

Alfred closed the freezer and chuckled. “Sure, sure. What happened?”

“So, I was thinking about how I was going to go about it- there are some hilarious ways to dump someone, you know- but I decided that I wanted to be honest with him, yeah?” Harriet flopped onto the couch, tossing her legs onto Alfred’s. She circled the wine in her glass, head tipped back to stare at the ceiling the way she had at the café. “And then, today, I came home and he was sitting there, and I realized that he was everything I told myself I would never love.”

“In your Poe phase?”

“Yeah, the Poe phase. I want someone who likes music and art and rainy days and watching history documentaries with me. You were right all along, Alfred.”

“So, you broke it off?”

“I broke it off. I just said: “George, this isn’t going to work.” And then I put my stuff in that duffel and walked out.”

“Cold, Harriet. That was cold.” Alfred poked at her shoulder. Harriet laughed, hiccupped, and then Alfred pulled the wine glass away. “Come on, you, get to bed.”

 

•••

 

EDWARD: drinks with the crowd tonight?

 

ALFRED: when and where?

 

EDWARD: bar soho, 8

 

ALFED: I’ll be there

 

Edward sighed and flopped back onto the bed, turning his head to look at Florence. She glanced down from her book, smiled, and ran a hand through his hair. It was peaceful there, sprawled on his back while Florence read, curled up against the headboard, sun streaming through the blinds and making her stray hairs glow around her face. There was no denying that Florence was pretty, and that this was a snippet of a life Edward could love. But it circled around to the safety of Florence to the thrill of Alfred… Edward felt as though he had spent his whole life following the safe road. He felt as though his world was too secure to be real. Florence trailed soft fingers through his hair, ghosting over his skin, and the sun burned against his face and Florence’s touch seared.

At least he’d see Alfred in a few hours. Maybe he could tell Florence that he was a little to tipsy to get back and that he crashed at Alfred’s because it was closest. A perfect excuse, he supposed.

Oh, and he could _hardly_ wait. Edward craved Alfred more than could possibly be healthy. He was starved of anything meaningful, and at least he could pretend that Alfred was. There was just enough passion, just enough tender looks and caresses, for Edward to fool himself into thinking that it was real. He itched for Alfred.

Florence sighed, turning to look out the window. “The sun is so beautiful today, don’t you think?”

Edward swallowed hard, smiled and flipped up to meet Florence’s lips. “Yes, it is.” She laughed and returned the kiss, cupping her hand around his cheek. Edward slipped backwards off the bed, Florence’s hand still caught in his until they were forced to pull apart.

 

•••

 

Alfred decided that the stairwell was his favorite spot in the apartment building. It was quiet (people preferred the decidedly less drafty elevator) and peaceful. Someone had put plants in the windowsill, making the echo-y space nearly home-like. It was comfortable to curl up on a landing with his laptop, stealing wifi off of the neighbors.

Browsing aimlessly was therapeutic at the end of a long day. Alfred’s client was being positively horrid and his patience with HTML was running thin. He dropped his head against the wall and sighed. Five hours until he was meeting the crowd at Soho.

“Alfred?”

He glanced up. “Oh, hi, Harriet.”

She looked around at the barren walls and the lonely windowsill plant. “What’re you doing in here?”

Alfred shrugged and patted the ground beside him. “Taking a break. Feel free to join me.”

Harriet sunk down onto the concrete and tipped her head onto Alfred’s shoulder. “You’re going to Soho tonight, right?”

“Yeah, definitely. How are things with Ernst?”

Harriet sighed. “Ehh.”

“Understood.”

The pair sat in silence, the slamming of a stairwell door upstairs and the subsequent footsteps the only thing that shattered their peace. Alfred offered Harriet an earbud.

Alfred was totally lost. Edward hadn’t contacted him for a while besides the invitation to Soho and it _hurt_. It hurt that Edward was treating him like a fuck-buddy. Then again, that’s what they were, which made Alfred’s emotions seem painfully childish. Their relationship went in these horrible waves. One moment they were on top of the world and the sex was painted with hints of something more, and the next Edward was ignoring him and Mina said that Florence was delighted at their relationship. Alfred was almost fed up with it all. He’d break it off, except he _couldn’t_ because he cared too much and maybe Edward did too and maybe, just maybe, Edward would break off the engagement and they’d ride off into the sunset or whatever.

It was even harder to keep it secret from Harriet. Mina had only found out because Alfred was bursting at the seams and she was catching on anyway. Edward swore Alfred to secrecy afterwards. Harriet always had such good advice, though. It was tempting.

Four hours until Soho.

 

•••

 

Edward had his temple pressed up against the window, cool glass soothing and city lights dazzling. Albert was complaining about English traffic in the passenger seat while Victoria navigated. Ernst was flicking through some playlist besides Edward, the de-facto DJ of the group. Edward closed his eyes and breathed, sinking into the banter of his friends and the alt-pop music Ernst had settled on and the hum of the streets around him.

“I do not understand why you drive on the left, ‘toria, I really don’t.”

“Well, boo, Albert, I can’t change the driving system.”

“You could… break the law,” Ernst suggested, smiling at his own wit and twirling his hand as he searched for the right words. Edward huffed in passive amusement.

“Thank you, Ernst!” Victoria yanked the car into a carpark, sending Edward crashing into Ernst and causing Albert to yell loudly in German.

“Jesus Christ, Victoria!” Edward yelped.

Despite Victoria’s questionable driving technique, they managed to park without much of a disaster. The chill of the night air was a shock, sending shivers up Edward’s spine and crawling across his skin. Victoria and Albert stumbled together, her heels clinking against the pavement and their arms tight around each other’s waists, laughter encircling their little group. Ernst lit a cigarette and the smoke was a cold echo of Alfred and their balcony.

He took a deep breath. _Everything was fine._

“What’s got you down, Drummond?” Ernst tapped his cigarette out on a passing lamp post, causing Victoria to complain in the background.

“Oh, nothing. Peel’s got me working hard and Florence and I have a lot on our hands.” Edward shrugged. “And you?”

Ernst smiled- shy, candid, thoroughly pleased, and unlike anything Edward had seen from him before. “Harriet broke up with George.”

“And he hasn’t shut up about it since!” Victoria called. Albert hooted and Ernst flipped him off gracefully. Edward bumped Ernst’s shoulder lightly.

“That’s fantastic! You two belong together.” The night seemed colder. Ernst smiled again, the pure innocence of the expression like salt in a wound. Was that how Alfred thought of him? Edward couldn’t decide whether that was pleasing or torturous, much less whether that was plausible or not. But if he allowed his mind to wander, Edward found himself dreaming of Alfred smiling at the floor like that, shy and bubbly like a schoolboy again. _If only_.

The line to the door wasn’t all that long, but it was enough time in the chilly night air for Ernst to wiggle into Victoria and Albert’s perpetual hug for warmth.

“Bonjour!”

Edward glanced up to see Alfred and the girls squeezing past the tail end of the line, cheeks rosy in the fall air. He was practically glowing, eyes icy and deep. Harriet tapped Ernst’s shoulder, grinning. Alfred came over to join Edward, eyes on Ernst and Harriet’s embrace. They were twirling a little and laughing and Harriet’s feet had been pulled from the earth. Edward glanced down at Alfred, who looked up from beneath his lashes.

_Salt in the wound._

 

•••

 

The glow from the bar lights and the reflection from the booth seating colored Edward’s face in brilliant red- dark eyes ringed in crimson and soft lips tinged in cherry. Alfred couldn’t decide whether it was enchanting or terrifying, but he settled between the two. It reminded him of the supernatural fairytales his grandmother used to tell him and his siblings. Edward was his vice, it seemed. Dangerous and beautiful. A rose.

Mina had been clinging to him for most of the night, but as Edward and Alfred drifted closer to each other, she excused herself. The tension was obvious.

“We haven’t spoken much lately.” Edward didn’t quite meet Alfred’s eyes as he took a swig of his drink.

“I’ve missed you,” Alfred whispered.

“Me too.”

The red glow looked softer. Alfred smiled at the floor. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Edward was smiling too.

“Alfred! Remember Emma?” Victoria was waving him over excitedly, and Alfred complied. He could feel Edward’s eyes on him, and maybe it was the buzz again (he’d gone out so often lately; what happened to quiet nights at home?), but it sent a thrill through his veins.

The rest of the night was a blur of red- Emma and Albert accidently smashing his glass and Mina falling asleep on Alfred’s lap. Edward continued to be adorable throughout the evening, Harriet and Ernst were practically attached, and Victoria seemed practically hyper. Nevertheless, they began to trickle out until Alfred and Edward were the only ones left.

“Isn’t it lucky that we’re always alone?” Edward held the door open, his statement a mixture of laughter and relief. Alfred tucked his hands into his pockets and buried his nose in the collar of his coat, again overwhelmed by the brisk night air.

“Definitely.” He trailed a hand along the cool brick. Alfred paused, turning to face Edward. He was ringed in neon again.

Alfred pressed his hand to his chest. “Edward.”

“Alfred.”

“Come home with me?”

 

•••

 

_It was a laugh that woke her._

_Harriet had gone back to Alfred’s in a cold stupor, suddenly unable to go home with Ernst. Something was holding her back (which she’d work out later), but the end result was that Ernst was probably stewing in his car while she sulked in her room._

_Sleep came eventually, but it was fitful and light. So, when a light crash and a laugh that was definitively not Alfred’s came from the next bedroom, Harriet was awake instantly._

_She cracked open her door and peered out into the hallway, freezing at the sight of Alfred and whoever he’d brought home._

_Alfred was in the hallway, covering his face in laughter and holding what appeared to be half of a broken pot. Also, he was shirtless, which made the purpose of his late-night escapade obvious. And there came the other one, equally shirtless and laughing quietly._

_Harriet’s eyes widened._

_Fucking hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp
> 
> •••
> 
> i may be ace but i'm a hoe for comments <3


	4. give me my sin again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again." - Romeo, Act I, Scene 5, William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edward is probably wildly ooc because i have no clue how to right him (is this typical teenage angst or a cry for help? actually please give me advice on how edward's mind works because he is an enigma)

“Edward, wake up.”

He cracked an eye. The warm sunlight that streamed through their room in the morning wasn’t there- either it was dark or Florence had the blinds pulled down. Memories of the night before hit him like a cold wave. Edward had gone home shortly after midnight and had slipped quietly into bed beside Florence, a reckless urge causing him to forgo a shower or anything to wipe away traces of Alfred. An absolutely horrible idea, but Edward was tired of erasing the marks. He wished he could keep Alfred there forever on his skin, a mark to remind him that it was real.

“Morning, Florence.” Edward rubbed his eyes and struggled to pull himself out from under the comforter and into a sitting position. “What time is it?”

She was looming at the end of the bed, golden hair a mess and cheeks splotchy, jaw set and arms crossed. Her phone was clutched in her shaking hand, knuckles white around it. _Shit_.

“Where were you last night?”

Edward paused. “The bar? With the old crowd?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me.” Florence’s voice was scathing, derogatory.  “Afterwards, after everyone left. What did you do?”

“I… walked Alfred home.”

Florence outright sobbed at that, a sob which easily broke through her carefully constructed angry exterior.

“Shit, Florence, what’s wrong?” Edward didn’t know if he should try to comfort her or if he should run, so he hovered, frozen at the head of the bed while Florence blinked back tears and composed herself.

“Harriet sent me a text.”

“Florence, what? What’s Harriet got to do with anything?”

“She’s staying at Alfred’s, Edward,” Florence hissed. “She saw _everything_.”

“Everything? Florence, what are you accusing me of?”

“Don’t do this, Edward! Don’t you… play with me. At least, not any more than you already have!” Florence hurled the phone in Edward’s general direction, making him jump and scramble to catch it. She threw her hands up and stalked off, yelling from the living room as Edward struggled to untangle himself and follow.

“Florence, you have to explain!”

“Oh, _I’m_ the one who has to explain? Really, Edward?”

“Wait, babe-.”

“Fine, Edward.” She said his name like a curse, spitting it out and stepping all over it as she squared herself before him. “If that’s what you want. Is it the satisfaction? Do you just… _need_ me to say it?”

“Florence, I-.”

“You’re having an affair, right? You’re _fucking_ Alfred.”

The silence was truly cold that time. All the comfortable quiet between them had been mutual and warm, ringed in light. But there, up before the sun, floor cold against his feet and Florence’s red-rimmed eyes hidden in shadows, Edward was ice.

“I- yes. Yes, Florence, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Another sob, and then she was on the floor, and Edward was shocked still again. His hands fell at his side as Florence pressed herself up against the oven door and slivers of light came from between the slats of the blinds.

As the minutes ticked by, Edward sunk beside her, trying to ignore the space he left between them.

“Can I tell you the story?” he said, quiet and more than a little shaky.

“I guess.”

“I met Alfred in Uni, right? And, God, he was beautiful. He was everything I wanted to be- he liked to go out at night and dance and get drunk and take someone home for a moment of human connection. I think that’s what he called it. I loved him then, I really, really did. I hope he loved me too, but I was too scared to ask. And then you happened, and you were everything I was supposed to have in order to get where I wanted to go. But I liked you and I could see myself loving you someday, so I proposed, and I’ll never forget Alfred’s face when I told him I went through with it. It was this horrible fake happiness and I hated it.

“So last year- do you remember that argument we had? The dumb one about appliances? It was after that- I went to Alfred’s for advice, but he was standing there in the doorway and he was so beautiful and I asked for what I really wanted. It was only supposed to be one time, but that obviously didn’t happen. And I hated myself for it, you know? I hated betraying you, but I couldn’t bring myself to break it off with either of you, and so we just let it happen. But now Harriet knows and you know and Mina’s known for forever, so I guess I’ll have to… end this. Because I’m sorry, I really am.”

The silence returned and Florence stared blankly at the wall, jaw set again and arms tight around her chest. When she spoke, it was choked and false. “It sounds like you love him.”

“… I do.”

Florence turned to him, the tiniest hint of a sour smile on her lips. Edward gulped.

“That sounds like a you problem. Goodbye, Edward.”

She slammed the door behind her.

 

•••

 

Mina had decided, probably due to whatever transpired during that half-forgotten midnight phone call (alcohol and spectacular sex was a surefire recipe for Alfred to say weird, weird things), to use her oh-so-handy spare key and torment Alfred.

He woke up to obnoxiously loud footsteps and blinding light, though that was probably just the hangover. Mina was looming in his doorway, her small frame seeming intimidating when accompanied by her glare. Mina was rarely angry- she had a permanent melancholy to her, despite her outgoing nature. Alfred was her only close friend, or so he had deduced. Try as she might, Harriet and Victoria would never quite let her in. Alfred rolled stubbornly onto his stomach and let out a vague groan.

“Get up, Alfred. We need to talk.”

“I’m too drunk to talk, Mina.”

She sighed and shoved him onto his side, crouching at the bed and smiled a little. “Come on; I’ll make waffles. You still smell like sex, by the way. Oh, and where’s Harriet?”

Alfred tumbled out of bed, promptly fell back onto it, and gestured loosely at the ceiling. “Hell if I know. I’m not sure if she came home last night- Ernst and whatnot.” 

Mina left, continuing their conversation from the kitchen. The clang of a pot made Alfred’s vision go blurry for a second. She must have been extraordinarily quiet earlier, because it was apparent that Alfred was not holding up from the night before.

“How’s everything with Edward?”

“Fine, I guess. He came over last night, obviously. I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, maybe you should give him a choice. End-all-be-all or something.”

“Like what?” Alfred stumbled into the bathroom, suddenly needing to scrub away whatever remained from the evening with approximately three tubes of toothpaste.

“Like, her or you.”

Alfred’s breath hitched. “I couldn’t- I could never do that. Force him to choose, I mean.”

“Good lord, Alfred, he’s going to have to choose at some point. Florence will find out eventually.”

Mina was right, but Alfred simply _couldn’t_. What if Edward chose Florence? Then he would know about Alfred’s dumb feelings and Alfred wouldn’t have any piece of him at all. As much as he longed to be a little mean, a little rash, Alfred couldn’t bring himself to risk it all.

“Maybe she won’t.” He left the bathroom, leaning on the wall a few times on his way to the kitchen.

Mina inhaled, paused, and Alfred froze in his tracks.

“Mina, what do you know?”

“Nothing.” She was holding a spoon in her hand, knuckles a little pale and bottom lip abused from where she bit it. Alfred, eyes wide and hands suddenly shaky, slammed into the counter and reached across to grasp Mina’s free hand. A pit had grown in his stomach, ice climbing up his spine.

“Mina, dearest, darling, please. You have to tell me.”

“I think you know by now.”

“Just say it.” It was as if the words, out in the open, crisp and clear and real, would make it true.

“Fine, yes, Florence knows.” Mina dropped her spoon into the waffle batter and yanked away to cross her arms. Alfred’s hand remained outstretched, holding him tight against the counter.

There was something different about Florence _knowing_. In a way, Alfred had wanted her to know, because that meant that she and Edward were done. The mean part in him wanted her to know so that he could flaunt it- _he loves me. He chose me._ But, really, Alfred didn’t want to break her heart. He had nothing against Florence herself, and had they met under different circumstances, they probably would’ve become fast friends. But, she came into Alfred’s life as an enemy, and what could’ve been would never be. Still, she was kind and smart, and hurting her was never the real goal. Alfred much preferred that she and Edward had never met, that time would turn back and the last few years would be erased. That was what he wanted- he wanted Edward without the battle.

Up until then, it was as if he was stuck in anticipation. Something was going to happen, something painful and shameful and unforgettable. He rallied and talked shit and built himself up a little, but then the war started and he was just a man.

Alfred shook out of it, reverting back to a calm and composed and thoroughly false version of himself he thought he’d left behind when he came out. Mina was there beside him, pressing soft lips to his cheek, and he settled into it.

“Who else knows?”

“About you and Edward?” Mina guided them down to the floor, curled like kittens. “Harriet, I’m guessing. I think she told Florence.”  

 _Yippee._ “Does Edward know?” Alfred wasn’t sure what he wanted that answer to be.

Mina avoided his gaze. “I’m not sure.”

“Dammit, Mina, just say what you mean.” He pushed her off, regret sparking in his chest at her hurt expression, but the urge to run was stronger.

Alfred fled.

 

•••

 

Park benches were excellent places to think.

There’d been a bench at the top of the hill behind Edward’s home when he was younger- just sitting there, not close enough to any trees to exist under the pretense of a place to rest in the shade, alone and strangely melancholy. He’d escaped there as a child when he was tired of endless play with the neighbors or when he was supposed to be doing chores, and again as a teenager when he and his father had those vicious political arguments at dinner. In school, when it was all too much, he’d leave everything in his room and find a place to sit in a dim courtyard with overgrown plants, just like the books his mother had read to him as a boy. So, there he was, sitting on a bench with his knees pulled up and blood rushing loudly in his ears.

Edward wasn’t sure what he was feeling. There was a sort of numbness that climbed up over his skin, preventing him from determining whether he was sad or relieved or scared or something else all together. Florence had texted to say that she had taken most of her belongings and was staying with a friend, and Edward couldn’t bring himself to go back to his lonely apartment.

He missed Alfred’s place, with the abundance of potted plants and the barely-functional kitchen sink and the colorful pop art on the walls and the stacks of worn-out classics on the shelves. It was his ache for Alfred’s home- so carefree and comfortable and pretty- that made him wonder whether he was attracted to the idea of Alfred and the nature of his life or the actual man. Those thoughts crept into his mind every now and then, almost as an attempt to dissuade him from their relationship, but Edward pushed them away. But maybe he was just convincing himself that those were mere intrusive thoughts and he really _did_ feel like that and everything was all a horrible, misguided illusion.

He wasn’t going to think about that.

Not as if that was the only concerning thought. Sometimes, after their meetings, Edward found himself wondering if he was only looking for the more carnal aspect of a relationship, whether it was only a mixture of the usual buzz that preceded their evenings and Alfred’s stupidly beautiful face. How could he be sure that was really what he wanted?

But then he’d see Alfred standing on the other side of the room and his eyes would be drawn to him and his presence and then Alfred would talk and his wit and wisdom were like a magnet and then Alfred would smile at him like Edward was the world and he’d look up at him through his lashes and he’d raise an eyebrow or he’d leave his shirt unbuttoned or he’d snuggle with Mina and Edward was sure, absolutely sure, that this was the man he loved.

And now Florence was done and gone and Edward was alone on a bench.

“Edward?”

“Speak of the devil,” he said, bitter. Edward was too tired to be concerned with how in the world Alfred found him.

“I, um, I’m here now. To… talk, I guess.”

Edward smiled, grim and scathing and a little bit mean. “To talk? It might be too late for that, Alfred.”

There was a pause. Edward hadn’t even looked over at him yet, but he could tell that Alfred was standing awkwardly, swallowing hard. “Well, then. Should I be going?”

Edward shrugged. He knew he was being petulant, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Alfred sat and Edward finally looked, startled by the red tinging his eyes and the sad, hurt set of his jaw.

“Sure.”

They sat in silence, Edward stiff and holding back unwelcome tears. Alfred didn’t make a sound. Being sad and angry was so foreign to Edward- it was rare that he felt anything other than emptiness lately- that it was taxing. And it hurt to sit there with Alfred so close and yet so far, even though Edward knew that the only thing holding him back was himself. A strange form of torture.

“Are you mad at me?” Alfred’s voice was small and so unlike him that Edward very nearly lost control and pulled him to his chest.

“No. You didn’t do anything.”

A breath of relief from Alfred and Edward uncoiled, suddenly disgusted at himself that he came off as upset with the one person who seemed innocent in all of this. Of course, that was far, far from the truth, but as Edward extended his hand into the space between them and as Alfred took it with caution, he felt like an island of peace in a stormy ocean.

They sat together and apart, hands clasped tentatively on the bench and the park stretched before them, the eye of the hurricane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry? also i can't write arguments or suspense so 
> 
> anyway, next chapter will be the last, and then i may do ficlets or another longer one in this verse... we'll see
> 
> •••
> 
> i may be ace but i'm a hoe for comments <33


	5. the fume of sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs." - Romeo, Act I, Scene 1, William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cant decide whether this was the hardest or easiest thing i've ever written. this is also up crazy fast because i couldn't really stop writing, but i'm probably going to be unbelievably busy for the next few days and then im off the grid for four weeks (i promise i'll be back full swing after that), so it seems best to just upload this now

It was dark when Alfred finally got home, hovering in the doorway of his own apartment like it was he who was intruding. No sight of Harriet- the front room was dark, though he could see slivers of light from the bathroom and Harriet’s bedroom. He swallowed and closed the door softly behind him, clicking the lock and pulling off his shoes.

Alfred wasn’t looking for a confrontation. He’d decided that he wanted to be cold, to never be explicitly upset, but to cover their relationship in ice. The feeling of betrayal was like a bullet to the heart. He’d trusted her, helped her, offered his fucking home to her, and then…

He wasn’t going to pick a fight, though.

Just steps from the door to his room, Alfred was stopped in his tracks by a soft cough. Harriet leaned in the doorway to his spare bedroom (it wasn’t _her_ room, not really), looking down the hallway and avoiding his stare.

“Hi, Alfred.”

He nodded and left the hall, shutting the door with calculated ease, and gasped at the feeling of being utterly alone for a moment.

“Alfred, don’t!” Harriet called, her footsteps stopping just on the other side of his door. Alfred shook his head despite the walls between them, lip curling into a sneer. “You have to hear me out!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harriet.”

“I- yeah, you’re right.” Her heavy sigh was painted in defeat. “I don’t deserve your sympathy. I’m going to tell you the story anyway. Put headphones on or something; I don’t care.”

He could hear her slip to the floor, curling at the foot of his door, her shadow blocking the little light from the hall that illuminated Alfred’s room. There, in the darkness, he waited.

“I saw you last night- Ernst and I argued because he was worried it was too fast. It was dumb and I regretted it a moment after, but I got out of his car and walked here and went to bed, so when you came home and broke whatever it was that you broke, I heard it all. And I looked out into the hall because I recognized a laugh that wasn’t yours, and you stood there with Edward and you both looked so happy and… innocent, I guess. But Florence and I have always been friends-of-sorts, and maybe it was just because I was upset with Ernst or whatever I had last night, but I was _mad_ and I texted Florence what I saw. You know I have this thing about cheating, you know that I never did anything with Ernst while I was dating George, and I think I was angry that Edward was doing that to Florence and that you were taking part in something I hate.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry that I’m rambling, but I haven’t really put together a coherent explanation.”

Alfred sat carefully on the edge of the bed and cleared his throat. “I think I owe you an explanation too.”

“Oh, Alfred, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I think I want to, though. Mina’s the only one who knows.”

Harriet breathed, slipping a few fingers underneath the door to offer her comfort, and Alfred’s resolve melted.

Standing there in the open doorway, Harriet sitting on the floor with a look of pure regret in her eyes, it felt surreal. Alfred had his doubts about whether the last day had been real at all, but then Harriet had her arms around him and his face was buried in her shoulder and it hit him with the full force of an avalanche.

“I’m sorry.”

_I forgive you._

_•_ ••

 

Edward left the café with a cold burn in his chest and a growing numbness in his mind. He’d met Florence to work out the finer details of wedding deposit refunds and the apartment. Also, like, emotions.

Frankly, he felt free. No strings attached. Mildly terrifying, but still liberating. Not that the sense of freedom helped him forget the way Florence looked at him from across the table, the way she scorned at his suggestions. But Edward had survived, and he was alone at last.

Vibrant leaves had drifted from a nearby park to cover the pavement, crunching beneath his boots. Fall was Edward’s favorite season- a good excuse to hole up in a sweater with Harriet’s famous scones. London was finally starting to feel like home.

There was only one thing left to do.

Alfred’s apartment was only a few blocks away from the café. They’d split ways after Alfred explained how in the world Harriet had discovered them, and the sudden and absolute lack of contact for the last few days had left Edward starving for Alfred even more than usual. Part of him was concerned with how desperately he craved his touch, but then again, Edward had given up on being rational ages ago.

The stairs up to Alfred’s were familiar enough that he could do them blindfolded. He’d always used the stairs rather than the elevator to avoid being spotted- God, that sounded nearly malicious. Edward wished he’d never proposed. He wished it more than anything. The past years would’ve been spectacularly different, almost certainly for the better, if he’d been more concerned with following his heart than giving into his father’s outdated expectations.

Harriet was just leaving Alfred’s, duffel bag over her shoulder. Edward prayed she wouldn’t say anything (he needed to think about how in the world he was going to do this), but she stopped and smiled carefully.

“I’m sorry, Edward, for everything.” She looked at the floor. “I’m just leaving. Ernst and I are moving in together.”

Edward smiled back. “Good. You two deserve some happiness. And, actually, you’ve done me a favor.”

Harriet sighed in relief. “Are you finally going to talk to him?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Affirming it out loud sent a rush of panic through his veins. Edward wished there was a way to just give Alfred all of his confusing, twisted emotions so that he didn’t have to explain them.

“Good luck. I’ll see you soon!” Harriet waved happily, seemingly uplifted by Edward’s lack of anger. He waved back as she practically skipped down the hall, suddenly alone with his thoughts. Alfred was just beyond the door. Edward couldn’t tell whether it was plain old nerves making his insides twist or if it was actual terror at what could happen.

_Now or never._

Whatever transpired from Edward’s decision to standing awkwardly in Alfred’s living room was a blur, but there was something about the way those icy blue eyes bored through him that brought him tumbling back down to reality.

“Hi.” He sounded breathy and nervous. _Dammit, you’re not asking him to marry you._

“Hi, Edward.” Alfred smiled that confused and expectant smile again, brows raised and arms crossed protectively over his chest. Beyond Alfred’s cocky and unflappable demeanor, Edward knew there was a man full of emotion and depth. It was hard to remember that, though, when Alfred tilted his head back to meet his eyes and smirked like he knew everyone’s secrets.

“I- actually, how are you?”

Alfred, surprised at the sudden shift in the conversation, flopped into an armchair. “Fine, I guess. You’re just being annoying.”

“Annoying?”

“Hot and cold. One moment you’re holding my hand and the next you’re radio silent for days.” There was an edge of genuine hurt in Alfred’s snarky voice that made every instinctive urge in Edward’s mind scream at once.

He breathed. “Yeah, these last few days have been rough. Not because Florence, really, but because of _this_.” Edward tapped his temple and sat carefully on the arm of the sofa. Alfred watched him suspiciously.

“That’s fun.”

“Yep.” Edward shook himself and refocused. “But I’m tired of trying to figure out what’s right. I think that was more of my father than anything- he’s still an ass, unsurprisingly. He always talked about how, if I wanted to be successful, I’d have to appeal to the masses and marry and have kids and all that shit. I think I let him influence me, which is actually terrifying, but Florence happened and I regret it all.”

“Edward, where are you going with this?”

“I’m just talking, I guess. Trying to make sense of it all and explain it to you.”

Alfred looked away, as if he was trying to hide his face and mask his emotions. Edward gulped.

“I told Florence all this when she found out, but I think I believe it now. Alfred, when we met, I didn’t know who I was, but I knew who _you_ were and you were beautiful and smart and full of passion and-.” Edward was rambling again. Alfred had turned farther away and was pressing a hand to his mouth. Edward took a deep breath. “And I- oh, fuck it. Alfred, can I kiss you?”

 

_•_ ••

 

There was a certain innocence to Edward that had always clung to him like sap, sticky and ensnaring. When they’d met, he’d watched the world with newfound glee and, though he was never naïve, he was inexperienced. Alfred had dealt with his own fair share of heartbreak to know that nothing was ever as perfect as it seemed. There was a biting edge of danger to them all, just kids with fiery hearts and silver tongues. Alfred was perfectly aware of this. He knew that nothing was harmless. Edward was so ready to dive into it all and never think about the downsides, so Alfred pushed back and kept them steady, right where they were safe. Or, as safe as rash flirtation could be.

But when Edward had come to him that night, eyes glowing, Alfred knew that the innocence had left him, and he knew it in the way he kissed. Edward kissed like there was no tomorrow, like Alfred was air and he was suffocating. Alfred could dream about those kisses, a hand cupping his neck and those warm, dark eyes fixed on his. He could float on those kisses.

And with Edward looking at him like that, desperate and scared and filled with longing, and asking him so tentatively, Alfred couldn’t help but nod.

Edward was on him in seconds, Alfred still curled in the arm chair with his legs thrown over the side, and Edward was kissing him with something tender and _loving_.

That innocence was back.

There were hands everywhere- his face, neck, hands, thighs- and it was heavenly. Edward slipped a hand underneath him and they shifted and Alfred was on top and the room spun a little because he _didn’t care_ and the only thing that mattered was then and now and _them_.

Alfred didn’t give a shit about what Edward had been going to say because he _knew_. He knew from Edward’s mouth and his eyes and his hands, all soft and persistent, that he was sorry and all of those dumb feelings were mutual.

“Alfred,” Edward whispered.

Their noses brushed and Alfred smiled. “Edward.”

 

_•_ ••

 

Night fell over the city slowly, leaving the apartment glowing with reds and golds. Alfred glowed too, his hair a shimmering halo and his sky-blue eyes splintered with bronze. As darkness enveloped them, Alfred tugged him to the bed, and he lost track of who he was and what was his.

And, after, with the darkness encircling them, the ceiling blank above him. Alfred was curled into his side, light breaths ghosting over his skin, fleeting and reassuring. Edward sighed. There was so much to decide and deduce. For a moment, there with Alfred, everything had been simple. Oh, how wrong he’d been.

Alfred stirred quietly, stretching up to rest his chin on Edward’s sternum, those damn blue eyes flicking up to Edward’s frown. “Penny for your thoughts.”

Edward shrugged, looking back up at the ceiling and reaching a hand up to run his fingers through Alfred’s hair. “Still confused.”

“About?”

“Florence, you, us, everything.”

“Me too, if that helps.”

“Not really,” Edward laughed. Quiet fell on them again and Alfred titled his head into Edward’s fingers, seeming to relax in the touch. Edward cleared his throat. “Alfred, what are we?”

A pause. “I’m in love with you.”

Edward’s breath hitched. “I am too.”

“Then we’re in love. That’s what we are.”

“That sounds good to me.”

The night wrapped around them again as Alfred slid up for their lips to meet, and Edward ran his hands wherever they could go. They kissed like a breath, in and out and give and take, steady and sure and simple. Edward smiled.  _We’re in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope that was okay? honestly not sure lol. anyway, quick shoutout to clarameansbright/otter for moral support and a bit of beta'ing, my sister for dealing with my twirling once i read comments, and my mom for giving no shits about what i do on the internet
> 
> a much less quick shoutout to iwritetrash and lucky_moony for being fantastic 24/7 and leaving the most wonderful comments on every chapter. really, i can't explain how much your kind words mean to me and i'd love to talk more (hmu on tumblr under thebriars). so, thanks? english needs to come up with a better word to describe this emotion 
> 
> im very surprised that this actually happened because, a, plot is not something i'm good at and, b, i procrastinate too much, but here it is 
> 
> in case you missed the top note, i'll be off the grid for about a month, but i'll be back afterwards to shitpost and spam everyone. also, did i ever mention that vic and albert are Not Cousins in this verse? i feel like i should make that clear lol
> 
> lots of love, 
> 
> rosy/thebriars/whatever
> 
> •••
> 
> i may be ace but i'm a hoe for comments <33

**Author's Note:**

> so either that was okay or horribly shitty- feel free to let me know lol. albert's german is google translate and therefore may be wildly inaccurate, so please please please let me know if it’s wrong. (also peep my political opinions; yes, i’m an angry american)
> 
> thank you so much to my dearest otter (clarameansbright) for beta'ing!! 
> 
> •••
> 
> i may be ace but i'm a hoe for comments <33


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